The Magical Congress of the United States of America
by OFMACUSA
Summary: In present day New York City, the magical community has suffered a devastating attack at the hands of a mysterious new dark wizard. The MACUSA must now do everything in their power to track down this new threat and assure the safety of magical New York.
1. Chapter 1

And now he's captured every eye. On the balcony, a suited man brings the tip of his amber colored wand to the base of his throat and whispers a quiet 'sonorous.'

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT'S SHOWTIME!" the screaming has ceased, as if turned off by a switch on the ornate wall of the ballroom.

"WITCHES AND WIZARDS OF MAGICAL AMERICA, THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO JOIN YOU ON THIS _VERY_ SPECIAL NIGHT. I AM SURE IT IS ONE THAT WILL BE...UNFORGETTABLE." as the towering wizard's lips lift into a cool smirk, three bodies fall like rag dolls onto the marble floor. Lifeless. Unmoving. Dead.

"WE ARE TONIGHT'S ENTERTAINMENT!"

* * *

 _ **8 HOURS BEFORE THE SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY BALL**_

"Winifred, please! Your father only has fifteen minutes until the Minister arrives!" pants Minna Williams as she bustles into Winifred Watkins's penthouse apartment. "You can't be late again!"

A tousled mound of blonde groans from beneath white sheets and murmurs incoherently at her father's assistant.

"Winnie! /Now!/" pleads the brunette witch with bags under her eyes. Between managing the President of the Magical Congress and her own two children (and child-like fiance), Minna hasn't seen a decent sleep since before the election six years ago and she's the President's assistant for many reasons, however, the most important reason is that she's always thinking one step ahead of the _New York Ghost._

 _The New York Ghost_ which has come under new guidance of one, Scotty Wabash, has been itching to tear apart the Watkins administration since well before the election. If it weren't for Minna, they would have burned it down like Rome by now.

Minna's fingers grip a pair of black-out curtains and fling them open, revealing a sunny New York City sky.

"Rude!" huffs Winnie, who tosses a pillow across the room. She misses Minna. Blame the hangover. "Why do I have to see him? I'll see him tonight!"

"He wants you to meet the new Minister /before/ tonight's gala," explains the assistant as her eyes widen upon glimpsing the appearance of the president's daughter. "Oh, Winnie…you look…-"

"Hungover?" the blonde mutters, swinging her legs reluctantly out of the plush bed. "That's because I am. Very. Very _hungover."_ And still, there's a tiny smirk on the witch's lips as she flits into the bathroom.

"Drink this," the assistant pulls a small vial from her bag and sticks it through the small crack in the door where Winnie is washing her face. "And do something with your hair. . . Anything." Anything would be better than the rat's nest on top of her head.

Grumbling about her invasion of privacy, Win uncorks the vial and knocks back the light blue potion like it were one of the many tequila shots she took a few hours ago.

Truthfully, Winifred Watkins has never been accustomed to privacy. When her father won his election in her fourth year at Ilvermorny, a security detail was deployed upon her to watch and track her every move. Sometimes, it came into use, like when she scared off a boy she had no interest in dating by telling him her personal bodyguard was ¼ giant. (To this day, Winnie isn't convinced that Alastor isn't ¼ giant, but that's a whole other story.) Most of the time, her security detail got in the way; like when she tried to skip school to see The Weird Sisters play in Berlin. (She almost got away with it if it weren't for one of those Wotter kids posted a picture of her on Instagram and Arlo Hale showed it to her dad).

Speaking of Arlo Hale…didn't Winnie see the Auror newbie going home with a vampire last night? Whatever the case, she's sure he'll kiss and tell whenever she sees him next.

Downing the baby blue liquid, Winnie grits her teeth as the bitter taste slides down her throat. Just like good ole magic, Winnie's hungover appearance is cleaned up and good as new. Her pale skin brightens and those heinous little bags under her eyes smooth out, making her blue eyes pop with that bright blonde hair of hers.

"I've got to get myself some of these…" coos the young witch but snatch! the vial is torn from her hand before she can read the label.

"Don't get used to it. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And Christ, Win, we're going to be late!" Frantic Minna hurries over to the witch's walk-in closet and grabs the first presentable outfit she lays her hands on.

In a matter of three minutes and twenty-seven seconds, Winnie is slipped into a white shift dress, very-presidential, and a pair of platform sandals, more Winnie's speed. Minna knows how to work with the girl, after all, she's known her Winnie's whole life.

The president's daughter grabs her trusty pair of black Ray-Bans and mutters about how she hasn't even had her morning coffee as she, Minna and Alastor shuffle towards the Floo.

"That's because it's 2:30," Minna tucks a strand of chin length brown hair behind her ear, straightening her form in the fireplace. "And I drank it."

"The Woolworth Building," bellows Alastor's hearty voice and down goes a handful of green powder and up goes the slithering flames.

When the green flames subside, the three exit the fireplace and find themselves in the bustling building of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. The grand entrance hall rises high into the sky and paper airplanes fly about, directing themselves to various offices. Witches and wizards of every size, color and species scatter on the floor, weaving between each other like the rats of the New York subway.

Winnie scoffs as her eyes find the obnoxiously large painting of her father on the far wall. Judas Watkins stands stoic and proud as the leader of the magical world. Every minute or so, he cracks a smile which makes a gaggle of witches on their coffee break swoon.

"This way, quickly please!" murmurs Minna, steering Winnie down the threshold of the main entrance, past a large fountain and towards a set of elevators.

Passing witches and wizards murmur about the president's daughter and their eyes follow her until Alastor's large figure obscures their view.

An iron gate closes, sealing the trio in an elevator and after Minna swipes her ID and murmurs a special code, they're zooming off towards the President's Office.

Judas Watkins' office is nestled in the back of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where dozens and dozens of Aurors work tirelessly solving crimes committed by magical folks across the United States.

The department is busy, with cubicles littered around the floor and various offices set across where the heads of the Aurors work. For the first time all day, Winnie's face lights up with the chaos of the bustling Aurors. Ever since she was a little girl, Winnie has wanted to join the elite squad of Aurors. She admired their strength and resilience, and most of all, their camaraderie. Before Judas climbed up the political ranks, he too was an Auror, and Winnie would often spend her weekends with her father at the Department. She remembers the first time Sabrina let her try on her boxing gloves, the time Oscar showed her where they keep criminals waiting to be tried in court, the morning after Callum proposed to Minna and he walked into the office like he was Brad Pitt.

They always made those mandatory weekends with her father more bearable. Now that Winnie had graduated from Ilvermorny and lived in NYC full time, she could waltz into in the department on her own terms, which didn't sit well with her father. Judas wanted Winnie to pick what she calls a "fluff job." Something that would appease the tabloids, compliment his role as Commander in Chief, and most of all, keep her safe and out of politics.

As the trio walks deeper into the department, they hear loud cheering and a little bit of a struggle. Oscar Diaz, the old Head of the Department, sits at a cubicle, his hand intertwined with Auror, Sabrina Darling's as they arm wrestle. Callum Mcconaughey, Minna's hunky, yet dopey fiancé cheers on his partner, Sabrina. Arlo Hale sits on a filing cabinet, a sparking lollipop dipping in and out of his mouth as he shouts at Oscar.

"COME ON, OZZIE! SHOW 'EM HOW IT'S DONE, PAPI!" howls Arlo who receives a gruff 'cállate' from a panting Oscar.

Back in the day, Oscar was a force to be reckoned with. Tall, dark, buff, and handsome, he was the fearless leader of the Department. After the death of his wife, the now pudgy father of a frantic four year old named Philippa resigned, and now deals with menial paperwork for the Auror Office.

Oscar's bicep strains as Sabrina's overpowers his grip and down the wizard's arm goes, defeated. Sabrina throws her hands in the air, blonde hair swinging and smug pride displaying itself upon her angelic face.

"Cough it up, Hale!" She gestures to the floppy raven-haired wizard who digs a hand into his pocket and tosses her a Sbarro's loyalty card.

"S'all I got," Arlo shrugs, twisting the lollipop in his mouth.

"Seven punches away from a free pizza? Why am I surprised?" the blonde arches a brow at her co-worker.

Arlo scoots off the filing cabinet, clumsily landing next to Oscar who mutters as he slumps off to his cubicle. He hastily grabs a stack of paperwork from Jude William's desk. "The one by my apartment closed because they found out a rat was delivering pizzas," Arlo explains casually, biting off the end of his lollipop and tossing the white paper stick into a nearby trash can. Cal helps him dunk.

". . . Oh, didn't know Cal became a pizza deliverer!" and the witch elbows her partner in the side as she skips off towards her desk, humming to the tune of ratatouille.

A frowning Cal rubs at his side, "She's so cruel…" but soon the Auror's eyes brighten as they meet his fiancé's. "Minna, baby, hey!"

"Sorry, no time, babe," the president's assistant is strictly business as she presses a quick kiss to his once again frowning face. "Little Miss MACUSA made us late, again!"

"She's beauty and she's grace. . ." coos Arlo, who squeezes Winnie's hand as she passes as if he's presenting her as Miss United States at a pageant. Winnie twirls and gives a little hair flip, which almost makes him tear up.

"Atta girl, Win, make her work for it!" Calls a defeated Callum, sighing as he watches the ass of his fiancé walk down the hall.

With a roll of her eyes, Minna leads Winnie and Alastor through the depths of the Department until they turn down a marble hallway and there, at the end, is the President's Office.

"Minister Shacklebolt should be arriving," a glance to her watch which she flicks on her wrist. "Any second. In you go," the witch plucks the Raybans which Winnie had pushed to the top of her head and quickly tries to push fingers through her blonde hair, similar to how she would brush her daughter's hair.

Winnie swats her hand away, also similar to Minna's daughter, Mabel, and waltzes into the office.

Behind a great wooden desk, Judas speaks quietly with a slender brunette witch with luminous olive skin. Upon the interruption, the witch quickly excuses herself and passes Winnie and the others on her way out of the President's Office.

"There she is," Judas clears his throat and buttons his navy blue suit jacket. "Hi, Peanut," he extends his hands to his daughter who he then brings into a hug, punctuated with a kiss to the top of her head. "Sounds like they're working hard out there," he sarcastically mutters as his nose wrinkles, surely smelling the alcohol still lingering on his teenage daughter's body. "Winnie –"

"Sir, Minister Shacklebolt is here," Minna interjects in the nick of time, just as Alastor joins Judas's personal bodyguard, Joe.

Joe is an older Italian man who Winnie swears is the same Joe who is the bodyguard in Princess Diaries.

"Great, send him in." The president nods and releases his daughter, who wanders off to steal a few minutes in his leather chair.

The door clicks open and in walks Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, a dark skinned man in elaborate blue robes. "Judas…" he greets the President with both hands.

"Kingsley," Judas's firm handshake meets the Minister's. "Thank you for making time for us, I understand how busy you've been."

"I will always have time for our American brothers and sisters," Kingsley assures, eyes sweeping about the office.

Judas's office is a large room with a cluster of couches and armchairs for meetings and, of course, his great, ornate desk that is situated just behind a large emblem on the navy blue carpet. The emblem proudly displays a lighter blue eagle draped with an American Flag. The words "MAGICAL CONGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA" curve around the icon.

"You must be Winifred," Kingsley warmly smiles upon the blonde witch, slouched and spinning in her father's leather chair.

"Yes," Judas clears his voice as if to say 'not now, Winnie' and adjusts his tie. "Winifred, Minister Shacklebolt."

Minna's eyes look as if they are about to bulge out of her head. Winnie rolls her own and stands up to cross the room and shake the Minister's hand. "Pleasure to meet you." She tacks on her most presidential voice.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Watkins."

"Sir?" Minna clears her throat. "Are we ready for a quick picture?"

"Yes, I'm sure Minister Shacklebolt would like to head to his hotel so he can get situated before the gala. Send them in."

The door once more opens and Alastor and Joe stiffen as wiley Scotty Wabash enters, camera hung around his neck.

The slightly hunched wizard resembles a sewer rat with his pointed nose and slicked back hair. "Mr. President, Minister Shacklebolt, thank you for inviting me in today. I usually don't take pictures, but when I heard you wanted to be featured in my paper, I couldn't just send anyone." His voice is nasally and has the slightest of Jersey accents. "If you can just get together, why don't you both shake hands?"

The men oblige, once more joining hands in front of the camera.

"There we are," Wabash snips. "One, two…" FLASH! The blinding light of the camera illuminates the President's Office and Judas flinches, wondering why he ever agreed letting Scotty Wabash step foot into his office.

"Always one step ahead," Minna murmurs once the photographer exits, her lips pressing into a small smile. It was always better to be one step ahead of Scotty Wabash. If she gave him what he wanted, he wouldn't snoop around for it on his own.

"What would I do without you?" Judas appreciatively mutters back to Minna while Winnie tries on Minister Shacklebolt's robes.

Clearing her throat, Minna draws the duo's attention. "Well, Minister Shacklebolt, I'd be happy to escort you to your hotel. We have a security detail waiting in your suite as we speak." She continues, guiding the wizard back out the door and down the hall.

"I like him," Winnie is following the lines of the emblem on the floor, feet walking as if on a tightrope. "He's fun."

"He's powerful," remarks Judas, unbuttoning his suit jacket and dropping onto the red velvet couch. "Winifred," he starts slow as if deciding which words to choose next. "Best behavior tonight, alright? There are going to be a lot of important witches and wizards in attendance."

"Mhm."

"I mean it, please."

"I said 'mhm'.

The father sighs, it's as if his Presidential ego deflates in the presence of his daughter. That's something Minna says he needs to work on. "Our car will pick you up at 7:30." He's speaking to Winnie but his eyes find Alastor, who nods. If push comes to shove, Alastor will throw Winnie over his shoulder and physically put her in the blacked out town car.

"Wonderful," drawls the blonde witch, spinning as she reaches the final word on the emblem. "Can I go now? I'm supposed to meet Arlo for his lunch break."

There's a beat of silence hanging between them as Judas wonders why Winnie bothers spending time with the odd Auror newbie. Truthfully, he didn't know how the scrawny wizard made it through the training program. His answer comes with a murmured spell and the opening of his door.

"Love you, bye!" and out skips Winnie, followed Alastor, who is definitely not skipping.

 _ **FIVE AND A HALF HOURS BEFORE THE SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY BALL**_

"Givenchy?" questions Arlo Hale as he licks mustard off the corner of his mouth.

"Nope!" replies Winnie, who is examining her hot dog and wondering which bite she should take next. Central Park is the perfect spot for Winnie to avoid the wizarding public. Witches and Wizards usually avoid this tourist hell hole, and rightfully so. It's utter chaos, especially in the summertime.

A full mouth, "Vera Wang?"

"Nu-uh."

"ALEXANDER WANG?" the wizard's eyes are wide as a glob of ketchup falls from his hot dog and onto the white Strokes t-shirt he wears.

". . ."

"YOU'RE IN THE ALEXANDER WANG GANG?! WINNIE, HOLY SHIT!"

"I'm not, I'm not!" waves off the witch, who didn't respond because her mouth was full. "I'm wearing Vivienne Westwood!"

Arlo snaps his fingers twice like one of the Drag Queens on RuPaul. "Solid choice, slay my pretty little princess!" Another lick to the corner of his mouth where the mustard won't budge. "What do you think Oscar will wear?"

"You have such a weird thing for him, ohmygod." Winnie snorts.

"And you don't have a weird thing for Everett Wilde?"

Winnie's cheeks blush almost as red as the ketchup staining her friend's shirt. She takes one last bite of her hotdog, pitches it in the trashcan and wipes her hands. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Arlo trails behind and eyes Alastor who is practically four times his size. "You're not buying that either, huh?"

Alastor straightens his form and Winnie swears she sees him shake his head in the corner of her eye.

"If your dad finds out, consider yourself as cancelled as Katy Perry."

"He /isn't/ going to find out!"

"…and if that's not a statement of admission, I don't know what is, people!" Arlo claps a hand on Alastor's bicep and joins the blonde after dropping his garbage in the trash. He hooks his arm with Winnie. "Hey, I'm team Winnie here!" He defends himself from the witch's scowl. "I'd just like you in once piece, that's all."

"He isn't going to find out," the witch repeats, pulling her arm from her friend so she can tie her blonde hair into a knot on the top of her head. Then, she murmurs. "And if he does, I'll deal with it."

"And if he does, we put you in the Witness Protection Program!" corrects the wizard, cheerful as can be, eyes following a handsome jogger who passes by. "Oh, look at the time! I've…gotta go…"

Winnie's watching with total amusement, knowing exactly what her friend is about to do as he starts jogging in the opposite direction. "You're gonna throw up!" she calls.

"Never bet on me, darling!" shouts Arlo as he works those skinny legs of his, catching up with the handsome jogger.

 _ **THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE THE SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY BALL**_

At 7:30 on the dot, Winnie, with Alastor in tow, joins her father in a black Lincoln Town Car. Inside, the vehicle resembles a limousine, with a long bench on the passenger side. There, Minna Williams sits, reading a schedule to Judas.

"The Purple Carpet will end at 8:15. Inside the venue, only two reporters from _The New York Ghost_ will be allowed. Dinner will be served at 8:30 and Cynthia Tollhouse of Saint Bathilda's will speak at 8:45. Her speech should last until 9:00. There will be mingling and dancing for an hour and at 10:00, we will announce the conclusion of the event and the after party on the rooftop will begin for those who want to stay."

Judas nods along to his assistant's strictly planned schedule. "You've placed Cynthia and Minister Shacklebolt at my table, I assume?"

"Yes. And Winifred as well. The Aurors you asked to accompany you will be at the table to your left and the Healers to your right."

More nodding. Judas is stoic, much like his picture hanging in the entry to the Woolworth Building. He's gearing up for a night of schmoozing.

"Sabrina Darling, Everett Wilde, Oscar Diaz, Prince, and your brother and fiancé, correct?"

There's a long pause and Minna is biting her lip, no – chewing.

Judas raises his brow expectantly.

"Oscar had to decline, he couldn't get a sitter for Philippa."

As if he knows what's coming, Judas prys, "And?"

"ArloHaleIsTakingHisPlace." The witch's words rush out like a balloon losing its air.

"YES!" Cheers Winnie, suddenly not minding the night ahead at all.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Judas rubs at the spot between his brows.

"I've already asked Callum to keep him in check!" tries Minna, hoping that will appease the Commander in Chief. It does not. In fact, the President looks more worried now.

"And Sabrina to watch Cal!"

"This is going to be AWESOME," Winnie raises a manicured hand to Alastor, baiting him to give her a high five. He ignores it which makes Winnie give herself a high five.

The charmed Lincoln Town Car rolls to a stop and the driver rolls down his window and exchange a few words with a wizard outside a tall brick building. The man nods, and the driver maneuvers the car into an alleyway and towards a brick wall next to an overwhelmed dumpster. One second the car looks as if it is going to smash into the bricks, and the next, it's pulling out of an alley and onto a just as busy city street.

Anyone could mistake this street for one of New York City, and if you don't look carefully enough, you would.

There is a long purple carpet leading from the sidewalk and up the stairs to a large marble building. Etched into the marble is a gold marquee reading "PICQUERY PLACE" and below hangs an intricate banner reading "ANNUAL SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY BALL".

Witches and wizards donning their best dresses, suits, and robes, slowly exit cars, step off brooms, and idle down the carpet. Levitating cameras snap their pictures and floating quills eagerly dance across parchment as reporters ask for comments from some of New York's Wizarding Elite.

Alastor steps out of the car and opens the door, signaling for Minna, Winnie, and Judas to follow suit. When they do, all the cameras and heads turn to welcome the President.

"Mr. President!" shouts one bold reporter, his camera flashing like the lights on a fire truck.

"Winnie!" calls a red headed witch, who's quill eagerly prepares to scrawl upon it's parchment notebook.

Judas extends his hand in an inviting, gracious wave to the crowd, and Minna scoots onto the purple carpet, ready to usher the President and his daughter through the line up.

Winnie's eyes are wide, illuminated by the flashing camera bulbs and screaming reporters. On her lips, the smallest of amused smiles.

Alastor follows behind like a loyal watchdog, almond eyes sweeping the crowd and their surroundings for any impending danger.

The President's daughter takes a glance down the purple carpet and watches as her father greets a sleek gray haired witch in a gorgeous gold gown. She kisses both of his cheeks and the cameras flash.

"Mrs. Tollhouse!" calls a reporter, fixing glasses, which teeter, on the edge of his hooked nose. "Cynthia Tollhouse!" he tries again. "What do you hope to achieve from tonight's Charity Ball?"

Cynthia Tollhouse, the Head of Saint Bathilda's Hospital, beams at the crowd. "Good food, Old friends and money of course!" The crowd laughs and more pictures are snapped.

"I assure you, Mrs. Tollhouse," Judas begins. "We will make that happen."

"And that, Mr. President, is why you are my favorite Commander In Chief," the elder witch gives his chin a playful pinch which makes the crowd go wild. Judas even cracks a smile. "Don't tell Shacklebolt," she teases.

Minna whispers to Alastor, who nods and heads down the carpet to secure the rest of the walk.

"Winnie!" calls another reporter from down the carpet, "Winifred! What do you think about your father's new Chief of Staff?"

The blonde's brows knit and she steps closer to the reporter. "Hm?"

"Your father's new Chief of Staff, Mia Harding. Have you met her? What will this add to his administration?" Furrowing her brow, Winnie glances to her father who shakes hands with another wizard on the carpet.

"I'm sorry, who?" What was this man talking about? What new Chief of Staff? Winnie had just seen Cyrus Collins leaving her father's office just the other day.

"Mia Harding," the exasperated reporter tries again. "Brunette. British. Single." It's the way the reporter utters the last word that catches Winnie's attention. Whoever this Mia Harding was, she wanted nothing to do with her.

So, she replies like Mariah Carey did when asked her opinion of Jennifer Lopez. "I don't know her."

Just then, Minna swoops in and guides Winnie along, "Sorry, we must be going," she apologizes with a smile to the reporter and then a disguised murmur to Winnie, "no more reporters for the night, alright?"

"Fine by me," replies the witch. After a few minutes more of pictures, she joins her father up the stairs and into Picquery Place's grand ballroom.

The spacious room is adorned with extravagant decorations. Crystal chandeliers dangle over each white clothed table and floral arrangements complete with white lilies and purple – the signature color of Saint Bathilda – hydrangeas. Across the room, a goblin string quartet accompanies the guests as they mingle with one another. There's a small dance floor where Arlo and Minna's brother, Jude, is trying to teach an elder witch how to do that no-maj dance move called flossing, while Sabrina downs a flute of champagne.

Minna directs the Watkins crew to their table in the center of the ballroom, diagonal from the podium where Cynthia Gertrude will give her speech. The quartet ends their song, signaling for the guests to settle into their seats. Winnie winks at Arlo who is arm in arm with Sabrina, and Minna excuses herself to join her fiancé at the Auror table.

The ballroom quiets and in the blink of an eye, the silver plates on the white tables fill with food. Roast chicken, salmon, vegetable lasagna, crusty breads and warm puddings, the Charity Ball has ironically spared no expense. Where there was once music there is now the sound of small talk and silverware scraping at plates.

Winnie reaches for a flute of champagne, but her father, who takes a small sip and sets it down next to his plate, swiftly intercepts the glass. The president's daughter yearns to join her friends at the Auror table. After all, it's where she belongs.

At 8:45, thanks to Minna's strict schedule, Cynthia Tollhouse abandons her place next to Judas and takes to the podium. Her ivory wand presses to her throat and soon, her voice is carrying across the ballroom.

"Good evening and thank you for joining us for Saint Bathilda's Annual Charity Ball." The crowd applauds on cue and Winnie sees Minna relax in her seat.

"It is my great honor to speak on behalf of the fearless and dedicated Healers who call Saint Bathilda their home. Each day, these witches and wizards set aside their lives in order to save ours. Tonight, I am here to ask for your help." The witch drones on and on, encouraging those in attendance to reach into their hearts, and pockets, and donate to the hospital so they can expand their wards. When she finishes, it's 9:03, and while Minna could be uneasier, she's handling it well; only three minutes off schedule.

As Cynthia Gertrude steps down from the podium, the goblet quartet starts up once more. A dozen men and woman in purple robes appear at various spots in the ballroom and now, the donations begin. They hop from table to table, speaking with the elite of the wizarding world and gaining donation after donation.

Winnie finds her way to Arlo.

"Yo, I just donated $69," he smirks, shimmying his shoulders. "I wanted to do $420 but Sabrina said I didn't have that much money and she's totally right."

"I'm surprised you had $69," snorts Sabrina who pops a kiss to Winnie's cheek. "Love the shoes, little Watkins!" and she's off to tell Cal that she saw Scotty Wabash picking his nose.

"So, when can we get out of here and get Taco Bell?" Winnie is itching to take this dress off.

"Um, TBD," hums Arlo who fixes his wavy black hair with his hand. "There's a hottie over there with my name on it," the wizard admits, peering over Winnie's shoulder at an olive skinned brunette wizard.

"He looks…"

"Dead inside? I know, I'm totally into that right now." Arlo's right. The wizard, who is probably in his mid-twenties, looks like he's pushing forties due to the heavy bags under his eyes. He has a nervous twitch about him as he sips on a glass of champagne. His dark eyes are flighty as they meet Arlo's and leap away.

"You've gotta get your head checked," Winnie flicks his ear. "Let me know when you're done hooking up in the bathroom?"

"Don't bet on me, darling," winks the wizard, and then he's gone.

Winnie doesn't have time to busy herself elsewhere, thanks to the cool voice of Everett Wilde. "Miss Watkins."

The blonde turns, blue eyes softening as they find the Chief Auror's green orbs. "Everett." His jaw is lined with light stubble, and Winnie can almost imagine what it would feel like against her soft skin. They've kissed before, but he was clean-shaven then. A kiss now would feel different.

That same butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling from their first kiss creeps back into the pit of Winnie's stomach. She remembers that it was raining outside and she had just finished begging her father to let her into the Auror Training Program. He, of course, had said no for the third time and Winnie knew that meant the discussion was over. She was storming out of the office when she ran SMACK! into Everett Wilde. 10 years older than her, the Head Auror was nothing but a hopeless crush at first. Slowly, then all at once, he became more than that. Now, Everett had been secretly training Winnie for three months and the two found more ways than the obvious to train.

"I'd offer you a glass of champagne but, -" the tall wizard's gaze flicks across the room to settle on Judas Watkins, his boss.

"…you shouldn't be afraid of him," starts Winnie, her fingers plucking his glass from his hands and taking a sip for herself. "He sleeps with a night light."

"He sleeps with a light on because he never really sleeps, Winnie," chuckles the Auror. "That's the price you pay for being president. A 24 hour workday."

"His own fault," the witch wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

Speak of the devil, Winnie glances over to find her father whispering in the ear of a brunette witch who laughs, her hand resting on his arm. When she pulls back and tucks her hair behind her ear, Winnie recognizes her as the woman in her father's office earlier that day.

"Ev, who…who is that?" Winnie's chin inclines towards the olive skinned witch.

"Mia Harding," replies the wizard, his hand dipping into his pocket. "She's your father's new Chief of Staff."

"Brunette, British, and single." murmurs Winnie, recalling the reporter on the purple carpet. It's a good thing she isn't holding a glass, because it would most likely be in shards on the floor by now.

It's been six years since her father and mother divorced, but Winnie has never truly recovered and it's not looking promising.

"Excuse me," the witch hisses, brushing past Everett and snagging a flute of champagne off the silver tray of a passing waiter. She knocks it back and starts towards her father, but Everett is quick, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind a column.

"Win," he whispers, cupping her face. "It's not worth it, not tonight."

"Then what is, hm?" the blonde's eyes bear into Everett's, waiting expectantly for something to convince her otherwise.

It's then that his lips descend onto her's, and now Winnie Watkins knows what it's like to feel Everett Wilde's stubble upon her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed and for a moment, she's forgotten all about her father moving on with some cheap British wannabe Hermione Granger.

For a moment, there's nothing but her and Everett.

But then there's a flash of green and the quartet screeches into silence. A goblin lays on the stage, his life stolen away in the matter of seconds. It's then that the screaming starts.

And now he's captured every eye. On the balcony, a suited man brings the tip of his amber colored wand to the base of his throat and whispers a quiet 'sonorous.'

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT'S SHOWTIME!" the screaming has ceased, as if turned off by a switch on the ornate wall of the ballroom. The dozen Aurors and Security Wizards in the room rise into the air, frozen. Callum's eyes are wide, Sabrina's mouth is slack, Jude clutches a flute of champagne...all unable to move under the spell of the mystery guest. Winnie searches the crowd for Arlo but she can't find him. Where had he gone?

"WITCHES AND WIZARDS OF MAGICAL AMERICA, THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO JOIN YOU ON THIS _VERY_ SPECIAL NIGHT. I AM SURE IT IS ONE THAT WILL BE... "UNFORGETTABLE." as the towering wizard's lips lift into a cool smirk, three bodies lift like rag dolls into the air. Lifeless. Unmoving. Dead.

"WE ARE TONIGHT'S ENTERTAINMENT!"

And now Winnie has found him. Arlo Hale, his dark floppy hair hanging limply over his face as his body levitates in the air. Next to him is the bloodied face of Cynthia Tollhouse and next to her is an elder wizard in dark green robes. The bodies linger in the air a second longer until the wizard allows his hands to find his side. It's then that the three bodies fall to the marble floor with such a force that their bones can be heard snapping. The guests want to scream but their voices are trapped in their throats, unable to escape.

"YOU HAVE LIVED IN COMPLACENCY FOR TOO LONG," continues the man who hails from the balcony. His eyes are a piercing blue and they scan the crowd like a snake ready to strike. "AND I…AM HERE TO FREE YOU."

An undercover Security Wizard spared from the man's spell takes a step towards the President and in a flash of green, he too joins the bodies on the floor. The man on the balcony frowns, as if the murder inconveniences him.

"Shame," he cocks his head, surveying the body from across the room. "He looked fun."

"AS I WAS SAYING, I..." the wizard flourishes his hands as if presenting himself to the crowd. "AM HERE TO FREE YOU." His face returns to the sickening smile of delight and anticipation. "I'm sure many of you are bursting with questions, and to that, all I have to say is…you'll have to wait and see if I answer them."

As if on cue, a dozen of wizards cloaked in black appear around the party just as the wizards in purple had previously done.

"You have two options," the wizard on the balcony continues, almost mundanely as if he's explaining the rules of Quidditch. "You stand there with your mouth wired shut and listen, or one of my many followers conveniently plastered around this room disposes of you." There's a long beat of silence and that smile is back. White teeth grin and the wizard holds his hands up, "Shall we?"

With the snapping of his fingers, the party resumes. The frozen Aurors and Security Wizards return to their places on the floor, free to make their choices, and at last, the guests are permitted to scream.

Across the room, Judas's gaze snaps towards Winnie and as the father reaches for his daughter, Joe grabs a hold of him and they disapparate with a loud snap. Everett conceals Winnie under his arm and as she lets out a cry for her father, Alastor sends a flash of red across the room. "We have to go. Now." The gruff protector growls.

"W-wait!" Winnie cries, frantically looking over Everett's shoulder at the chaotic crowd and the flashes of green flying across the ornate ballroom.

The Killing Curse is reflected in the chandeliers, sending sparks in every direction. Bodies fall, crumpled to the floor, guests try to escape and the Aurors prepare for battle.

"A-Arlo!" there, on floor of the ballroom, rests the young Auror. Tears fill Winnie's eyes and she's trying to break out of Everett's grasp but it's no match. "W-we can't leave him!"

"H-He's gone," the elder Auror grunts and despite wanting to fight alongside his team, he knows what he has to do.

Winnie and Everett disapparate with a CRACK!


	2. Chapter 2

_**THREE HOURS AFTER THE SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY GALA**_

"Whenever you're ready, Ms. Norwood."

"From the beginning, Mr. Collins."

"Anything you can remember will help," goads Auror after Auror in the department interrogation rooms. They were reeling, recovering from an attack and they needed answers. They needed somewhere to start.

Oscar Diaz clutches a steaming cup of black coffee while the glow of the office television shines onto his face.

"We are coming to you LIVE from outside Picquery Place where an attack at the Saint Bathilda Charity Gala took place earlier this evening," reports Eve Conway, a slender redheaded witch clutching a microphone. "As of midnight the total loss of life remains at 15 while 11 individuals are unaccounted for and the unnamed attackers remain at large. We have seen countless Aurors and additional MACUSA employees arriving over the course of the past few hours but have been unable to reach any of them for a comment," she explains, glancing over her shoulder at the large building behind where illuminated wands are seen escorting body bags. "It is a grim night for the city of New York. We'll be back with more information as it is presented to us."

Oscar sips his coffee and grunts; still too hot. He murmurs something to turn the TV off and turns towards a group of Aurors gathered. He exhales a long breath, his hand craning behind his head to rub at the back of his neck. Before he can talk, Sabrina blurts out, her tone shaky.

"Save it, Oz, none of us are going home. We're here, we're not leaving," the blonde, like many of the Aurors around her are still in their outfits from the gala. Some have bruises, cuts, ripped clothing and but wear the same expression: shock.

How could something like this have happened? How could they have not seen it coming? What are they supposed to do now? Who will knock on Arlo Hale's mom's door and tell her that her son won't be coming home?

"I know," begins the former head of the Auror Department. "I know, I -" what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to make things better? His hand travels to the thick stubble growing on his jaw and the wizard sighs. Start with what they know. "President Watkins, Vice President Hawthorne, Winifred, Cynthia Tollhouse and a few Senators have been taken to the safe house with their security details. Many of you…" the wizard pauses, his lips pressing into a thin line before he's able to speak again. "You all know we lost Arlo tonight...Arlo and 14 others. We have a team from Saint Bathilda's working to identify the other victims as well as locate the remaining unaccounted guests."

Oscar lifts his gaze to the half-dozen Aurors standing before him. Sabrina has her arms folded across a torn silk dress, Cal leans against the wall, tie undone and hands in his pockets while Benji, Arden, Jude, and Everett scatter about. Jude's eyes are puffy and red and Arden has her arm draped across his shoulder.

"We're going to find them, I promise you all that," speaks Oscar, his voice steady, firm...father-like. "I promise." His tone makes Sabrina speak up once more.

"Get home to Phil, Oscar. We'll handle things here until the morning. She needs you, go." the blonde nods as Everett, the actual Department Head approaches the elder wizard.

"She's right. We'll hold down the fort. I'll give you a full update in the morning," the brunette holds his hand out to shake Oscar's. A solemn nod and Oscar turns to leave, pausing once in the doorway of the small break room.

He looks as if he's going to say something but decides better of himself. Instead, he nods and vanishes down the hall. There's a beat of silence and then Everett Wilde is turning back towards the group of disheveled, exhausted Aurors.

"Alright, Sabrina and Callum, I need you both to run point at Picquery Place. The Head of Saint Bathilda's will meet you there." As he rattles off demands, each pair of Aurors depart.

"Benji and Arden, you are going to make a sweep at a few locations to ensure their security, Minna has the addresses."

"Jude," the Auror finally arrives at the youngest of the bunch and the last remaining in the break room. He takes a few steps towards the shaggy haired brunette and drops his voice to a lower, less commanding volume. "Go home and get some rest. Take all the time you need. We'll be here when you're ready." Jude doesn't move, he just stands there; frozen. His brown eyes are locked on the turned off TV behind Everett but there's just a blank stare reflecting back. "You heard Oscar, we'll find them. We'll get them. He won't die in vain, he won't-" but before the wizard can finish his sentence, the young Auror is hurrying out of the office and disappears into down the hall.

Alone in the room where Aurors often ate lunch, complained about mundane paperwork and shared a laugh, Everett Wilde takes a moment to finally exhale. There is work to do.

 _ **MOMENTS AFTER THE SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY GALA**_

"Thunderbird and Phoenix have been secured," bellows Alastor into the point of his wand once four pairs of feet hit the wooden floors of the safe house. Everett has dropped his grip on Winnie only to ensure the proper protection spells are up and working. His wand waves and a shimmer glimmers along the wooden walls of a small living room.

Winnie's eyes are wide and her cheeks are stained with tears. Her feet remain at the exact point she apparated. Judas, on the other hand, is immediately pacing about the cabin. A moment later there are three more CRACKS! Vice President Hawthorne, Cynthia Tollhouse, Nancy Wittum, each accompanied by their own security detail.

"What the HELL was that?" shouts Vice President Hawthorne who has always been notoriously more outspoken and gruff than his counterpart.

"They're dead…" murmurs Cynthia Tollhouse, the Head of Saint Bathilda, clearly shaken as Senator Wittum rubs her back. "I saw the light leave their eyes…"

"Mr. President," Everett clears his throat, approaching the leader of the Magical World as he paces to and fro. "Mr. President, Alastor will remain here with you as well as Vice President Hawthorne, Mrs. Tollhouse and Senator Wittum's security teams. The protection spells are up and running. I have to go back. I have to -"

"Go," replies the President.

Everett Wilde nods and before he apparates back to Picquery Place, he steals a glance at Winnie.

"We need to go and fight, Judas," announces the burly Hawthorne whose chest is puffed out like he's the General of some army. "We can't stand here with our thumbs up our asses! We have to take care of the bastards now!"

"/Frank/," hisses Senator Wittum who gives the wizard a pointed look. "You heard Everett. We are staying put until we're told otherwise."

"Like hell we are!"

Judas's pacing has stopped yet his back remains turned to the bickering Vice President and Senator. He remains there for a moment and then he approaches his daughter who still has not moved.

"Winifred," breathes the President as he takes her face between his hands. "Winifred, you're safe. We're safe here. They can't hurt you." It's not her she's worried about.

It's Arlo. Sabrina. Callum. Jude. Arden. Benji. /Everett./ One of them was dead, who was next? Who would fall to the ground while a flash of green steals their last breath? Who would she not see again?

"Winifred," Judas is trying to reach his daughter but she's miles away. He brings her to his chest and envelopes her in a hug and that's when the sobbing starts.

 _ **THREE DAYS AFTER THE SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY GALA**_

"Arlo Hale was a son, a friend, a lion-hearted Auror and a source of light in the halls of the Woolworth Building," Sabrina Darling speaks at a podium before a large crowd which had gathered to remember the fallen Auror at the Samuel G. Quahog Pavilion. She wears a simple black dress and clutches a tissue in her hand. "His contagious smile, addiction to licorice wands and entertaining recaps of Rupaul's Drag Race will be missed."

"Arlo," Callum Mcconaughey clears his throat, a silver flask perched on the podium as he speaks, clearly inebriated. "Man...fuck." He takes the flask, knocks back a sip and is then escorted offstage by his friend and fellow Auror Benji Rush who picks up where he left off.

"What Cal is trying to say is that Arlo was taken from us all too soon. He won't be replaced, he can't be. We'll miss you, bud."

Jude Williams stands at the podium, hands clutching either side for support. He wears a powder blue suit and a floral bow tie which Arlo had picked out for him last summer when Jude had a blind date with Quidditch prodigy Cleo Connors. From her seat in the crowd, Minna checks her watch. Her little brother has been up there for 2 minutes and 17 seconds and hasn't said a single word. This was almost worse than her fiance and his flask. She fidgets, nibbling on her lip as she wonders if she should do something, usher the next speaker, drag him off stage, anything. But at 3 minutes and 5 seconds, Jude Williams crumbles up a piece of paper and stalks off stage and down the aisle to the rear of the pavilion.

"Today, we are here to honor and mourn the death of Arlo Hale," begins President Watkins as he stands strong before the mass of MACUSA officials, reporters and members of the Hale family. He is statuesque, a vision of strength and stability in the wake of a terrible tragedy. "For the men and women who protect and serve the magical people of New York, last Saturday began like any other day. Like most Americans, each day you get up, probably have too quick a breakfast, kiss your family goodbye, and you head to work. But your work and the work of Aurors across the country is like no other. For the moment you accept that title, you have answered a call that at any moment, even in the briefest interaction, may put your life in harm's way. Arlo Hale answered that call. He answered that call each and everyday since he joined the Auror Department and last Saturday, his life was taken from him too soon. Today, we honor his sacrifice. We honor his selflessness and we honor all that he stood for. Today, we lay him to rest."

When it's finally over, Arlo Hale's mother walks before his casket. It doesn't levitate today, instead it is carried by President Judas Watkins, Vice President Frank Hawthorne, Oscar Diaz and Benji Rush.

They sit on the marble steps of the Quahog Pavilion which looks out at magical New York's version of Central Park. It's a bit smaller than its no-maj counterpart but just as iconic. Usually pick up Quidditch games can be found throughout its 4 square mile radius and magical creatures lurk about in bushes, trees and even a small lake. Today, however, its packed full of the general public wishing to pay its respects to those killed at the Saint Bathilda Charity Gala. Some hold signs, illuminated wands, bouquets of flowers, stuffed dragons. Some wipe their eyes, some flash their cameras trying to get a glimpse of someone famous.

They sit there and look out at the crowd that gathered. Sabrina, Callum, Minna, Benji, Arden and a couple Aurors-in-training who had worked alongside Arlo in the Academy. By now, President Watkins has retreated to the Woolworth Building with Joe in tow and all that remain are those who cannot say goodbye just yet.

Jude hangs off to the side, speech stuffed in his pockets and eyes cast out towards Wilkinson Park. Winnie quietly joins him, Alastor always a few paces behind her. She leans her back against one of the marble pillars.

"You can read it to me sometime, if you want," the witch murmurs as she reaches down to undo her black heels. She wore them for Arlo but now her feet were aching. "I wrote one too, well, I wrote three different ones but…" the blonde's hair is tied back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. "I told Minna I couldn't go through with any of them this morning."

Jude's eyes glance towards the blonde for a moment and then down to his sliders. He knew Arlo and Winnie were close and yet he never hung out with the both of them. Jude always assumed Winnie was stuck up little Miss MACUSA even though Arlo defended her until the ends of the earth.

"Maybe some other time," his voice finally speaks and when it does Winnie can hear how broken the wizard is. Her lips rub together and she feels like she should glance away from him; looking at him felt too personal.

"Okay...I promise I'm a good listener."

"I'm sure he is too," Jude inclines his chin towards Alastor whose presence is hard to ignore.

"Don't worry," Winnie tries a small smile. "He doesn't kiss and tell."

It falls flat because Jude doesn't say anything in response. He instead drags his gaze away from the witch and her security wizard.

"Jude-" the president's daughter tries again but this time she's interrupted by Everett Wilde.

"Winnie, it's time to go."

Jude's gaze meets Everett's and there's something there. It's like he has something to say, that he's close to saying something, anything. But like he did that night in the break room, Jude instead decides to walk away. This time, his shoulder bumps the elder wizard's on his way towards Minna and Callum.

A frustrated sigh leaves Winnie's mouth as she scoops up her heels and shoots Everett her own glare. She was still upset that Everett hadn't returned to the Safe House to check on her after the attack. Petty? Definitely. "I can tell time, thankyou," she mutters under her breath, walking down the marble steps to a Lincoln Town Car waiting at the bottom. Minna had told her the car would take her home at 6:30 and it was only 6:32.

The little Watkins slides into the car and almost immediately unzips the side of her dress to exhale a held breath. If only Arlo would be waiting at her apartment with pizza and gossip from his night out.

One by one, the Aurors depart the Quahog Pavilion. Sabrina and Arden, then Jude, Benji and the Aurors-in-Training and last, Minna and Callum.

The Auror holds his fiance's hand and in the other remains his flask. Minna's brown waves are pinned behind her small ears and her eyes have darker bags than normal. The poor witch hasn't slept since the attack.

"We have to pick the kids up from my mom and dad's," she reminds the slightly wobbly Auror.

"Mhm," he burps out the side of his mouth and breathes a quick "scuse me."

Usually, Minna would scold the wizard for drinking but today, she couldn't find the will. Instead, when she reaches for the flask she brings it to her lips and takes not one, not two but three gulps.

"It's not going to end here, is it?" The witch murmurs once she wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her black sweater. "All of this...it's just the beginning, isn't it?"

 _ **ONE DAY AFTER THE SAINT BATHILDA CHARITY GALA**_

They're in an ornate living room. A green sparked fire crackles in a grand marble fireplace and there are a dozen witches and wizards scattered about the space. Some stand, some lounge on velvet couches but each holds a flute of champagne.

One stands before them, the man from the gala; the one who spoke, who commanded the room. You couldn't miss his eyes if you tried: they're a bright piercing blue that sinks into each of the gazes of those who watch him.

"Congratulations, my dear, dear friends…" his silky voice begins. His slender hand holds the champagne flute in a toast and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he were toasting to an engagement or an anniversary.

The followers in the room, however, know better. They sit on the edges of their seats, they lean toward his every word. They cannot get enough of him, they cannot get enough of Kane Sullivan.

"We have introduced ourselves to the world and we WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN!"

The room of loyal followers erupt into cheers, whoops and hearty agreement.

"Yesterday, we began to forge our own path in this spectacular city but our work is not done, my friends. Our work does not end here. We -"

You can see it on their faces: the excitement, the eagerness. They're drunk on power, they're intoxicated with promise.

"WE HAVE JUST BEGUN!"


End file.
